Thus Kindly I Scatter
by Zellarius Burvenia
Summary: As the Vytal Tournament approaches, the forces of darkness gather to make their move. A generation of resentment, anger and hatred will culminate in a series of events that will rock Remnant to its core. Love may protect our heroes, but perhaps the villains once felt the same way. Picks up right where Volume 1 leaves off, so events will likely diverge wildly from the show.
1. Tell Me A Story

"Yang, tell me a story."

The last time Ruby Rose had said that was on the night before shipping out to Signal Academy for her first taste of combat training. It had stormed then, and try as she might to hide it the thirteen-year-old still jumped at every flash of lightning. A mighty crash of thunder would follow each one, and she'd burrow a little deeper under her favorite red-and-black skull blanket. The stuffed Beowolf in her quivering arms had helped chase away her fear of the creatures of Grimm long ago, but no toymaker in the kingdom of Vale made little plush thunderclouds.

Yang Xiao Long had smiled then, ruffling her little sister's long black hair – Ruby wouldn't cut it short until the following winter, when she'd decide it would improve her aim in battle. "Aren't you getting a little old for that?" she'd said. Yang always said that – had said it, in fact, every time Ruby asked for a story since her tenth birthday. Ruby had declared herself all grown up then, too old for the usual stories of heroes and monsters Yang usually put her to bed with.

The worst storm in thirty years had roared through town that very night, knocking out the Dust stations and plunging half the city into darkness. Little Ruby had changed her tune on stories in a flash of the lightning outside, but her ten-year-old self's hubris would come back to haunt her every time Yang asked if she _really _wanted one. Ruby always would, especially on stormy nights.

On the airship back to Beacon from the City of Vale, fifteen-year-old Ruby was draped across a leather couch in a corner of the central lounge, watching the storm that had rolled in not long after the battle on the docks. She squeezed Crescent Rose to her chest, its folded-up frame red as the cape she was using as a blanket, and wondered when she'd stopped letting the thunder scare her. Probably not long after arriving at Signal, she decided. You couldn't go to a combat school without hearing explosions throughout the day, especially not one for young teenagers.

Even so…

"Yang, tell me a story." Ruby's voice broke a long silence that had lasted since they took off from Vale. Until Team RWBY saw the overstuffed leather seats in the ship's lounge, none of them had realized just how tired they were. As eyewitnesses to the failed port heist, they'd been subjected to a long round of questioning by the police – Blake especially, who was the only one who'd fought in it and stuck around afterwards. Sun Wukong was still on the run from Vale's finest, and Penny…was Penny. None of the four girls were sure what to make of her.

Yang yawned, stretched and shifted in her seat. "Aren't you getting…a little old for that?" she slurred, fighting exhaustion and rapidly losing. She focused on Weiss to keep awake. Maybe the heiress's dress would be bright white enough to shock the fatigue out of her eyes. Not that it had worked for Blake, who was curled up in her own chair and snoring quietly. Purring, almost – her being a Faunus definitely explained the sounds she made in her sleep.

"Yang." A little louder, a little more insistent. Not shrill, but getting there. Weiss stirred slightly in her sleep.

"I'm whooped. It's gonna suck."

"I don't care."

"It's been a while."

"I don't care."

"Get some sleep."

"Nope."

"Mhmm." Yang grunted as affirmatively as she could manage. Ruby closed her eyes, waiting as she'd waited more than two years ago – before Team RWBY, before Beacon, before Signal. Yang glanced around for inspiration. _Storm,_ she thought. _Going home, Ruby, Weiss, Blake, red, white…well, here goes nothing._

"Once upon a time, there were two Huntresses – one white like snow, one red like fire." Ruby opened her eyes a crack, watching Weiss sleep. She envied her partner. Weiss could be out like a light in minutes. Not like Ruby. She wondered how her bed stayed up, the way she tossed and turned some nights – lashed to the ceiling with hastily knotted ropes. She'd have to invest in something a little more permanent.

Yang's voice brought her back to the present. Ruby smiled, cuddling her scythe a little closer. Despite what Yang said, she could always count on her big sister for a story.

"They stood on the front lines of the war with the Grimm, and they were happy to stand there. Every Ursa slain, every Nevermore grounded, every Death Stalker squished – each victory brought hope for mankind's future. They loved nothing more than the thrill of a battle, because it meant survival for everyone they cherished. And as they fought together, they found that there was something they loved more, after all…"

Ruby was drifting off, the lethargy in Yang's words becoming infectious.

"Each other."

As Yang told her story, the great airship drew farther and farther away from the lights of Vale, in the opposite direction of a red-and-gold motorcycle speeding through the Agricultural District and out of the city. The slender figure astride the motorcycle gunned the engine as she left the buildings behind, a flaming scar tearing through the sleeping body of the forest. Cold spring rain pelted down around the lone traveler, a cloud of steam rising in her wake as the water boiled away inches from her body.

"The darkness sent terrible creatures to extinguish these two blazing lights, bigger and more fearsome each time. Friends and family died around them, and sometimes it was a struggle to face their own losses, let alone the Grimm. But the red Huntress knew that with the love of her life at her side, calming her burning passion and anger with cold, calculating caution and discretion, there was nothing she could not face."

The motorcycle screamed through the trees beyond Vale as the woman pressed on. Her Aura kept her warm, radiating from her body and stopping the rain from soaking her pale skin, her charcoal-black hair, and the crimson fabric of her dress, which would otherwise be wholly inappropriate for the weather. Her eyes glowed like her headlights, yellow-orange pinpricks against the forest's evening gloom.

"In the same way, the white Huntress saw how the world suffered at the hands of the Grimm, and often despaired of ever banishing the darkness. Yet she persevered, for she knew her reason for being fought alongside her each day, breathing life into a weary heart with her fiery spirit."

With a slight nudge of her hands the woman brought her motorcycle off the road and onto a dirt path, slowing and coming to a stop. She paused, turning back to watch for any followers. When she was satisfied, she held out her hand before her. A tongue of fire flared up in her open palm, lighting her way as she dismounted. The ground hardened as she baked it dry with her Aura, providing a stable surface for her glass high heels. She walked up a gradual hill and through the close-knit trees, a jeweled anklet clinking softly around her right ankle.

"So they fought on, striking down evil wherever it threatened their way of life. And when one day the darkness claimed its prize, they died in each other's arms. For although all lights must one day flicker and fade, love endures even in death."

The woman in the dress broke out of the woods, emerging onto a steep cliff thrust up from the trees as if ripped from the earth by the hands of giants. She approached a small gray stone, slick with rain and carved into a block with a simple picture of a rose, its upper petals rising and curling like the peaks of a bonfire. _Summer Rose, _it read. Below that: _Thus Kindly I Scatter._

"Some say their spirits live on in every Huntsman and Huntress even to this day – reminding us all that while our duty is to fight for human and Faunus, for Remnant itself, our strength comes from the knowledge that someone somewhere is fighting for us as well."

Cinder Fall shed bitter tears as she fell to her knees and embraced the grave, tiny wisps of steam rising from her cheeks and vanishing with her sobs into the storm.


	2. Partners

Crocea Mors had been warmed by the blood of hundreds of Grimm since its forging, and over a century of care and maintenance had ensured the sword and shield remained exactly as good as in its first battle. History aside, however, a relic was a relic. Times had changed, and the great Hunter academies had long ago accepted that guns were the future of combat. Except among antiquarians and Grimm war reenactors, pure melee weapons had gone out of style. Even Cardin Winchester's mace could transform into a handcannon.

It wasn't easy being the only person not to use the weapons workshop. It had taken most of his first semester at Beacon, but Jaune Arc had finally gotten used to that. Somehow he preferred it that way. It meant that he boasted more time on the academy's sprawling sparring grounds than any other student – even the notoriously workaholic Weiss, who had been compensating by steadily racking up an army's body count in target dummies in the weeks leading up to the Vytal Festival tournament.

"It's not _my _fault the school's equipment isn't properly outfitted against Dust-based attacks," she'd said when deputy headmistress Glynda Goodwitch confronted her about this. "If it matters that much my family can have them replaced."

Jaune often wondered what it was like to be that rich. _Probably not so different than being normal_, he guessed. _Bigger house, better food, sure, but everyone's got problems of-_ "Agh!"

He stumbled back, cursing, and barely regained his balance in time to block a follow-up jab from a familiar spear. Its red-and-gold butt glanced off his shield as he refocused on the situation at hand.

"Stay vigilant!" Pyrrha Nikos called as her partner recovered.

Jaune gritted his teeth and swung high. Pyrrha danced around him. Jaune missed. Pyrrha rewarded him with a smack across the backs of his legs, sending him sprawling.

Face down in the dirt, again.

"Touché," Jaune muttered into the ground for at least the third time that hour. _Not one of my better days._ He felt the ground shake slightly. Pyrrha, jogging to his side.

"I'm sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Jaune took a deep breath and rolled onto his back. As was common – although less so recently, he liked to think – he found himself at Pyrrha's feet, concern and amusement fighting for control of her expression. He smiled. _I swear, she has the greenest eyes…_ "Right in the pride," he said.

Pyrrha smiled. "Pride grows back," she said, giving Jaune her hand.

Team JNPR's leader reached out to take it. Their eyes locked, and Jaune nodded his thanks.

Then he braced himself against the ground, rolled hard and threw Pyrrha over his shoulder.

"Hey-OOF!" Pyrrha hit the ground hard, her light bronze armor rattling as she fell in a heap at Jaune's side. _The sweet sound of victory!_ Jaune got to his feet, cracking his neck and watching Pyrrha gather herself up. Her bronze circlet was askew, and it pinned her ponytail at a rakish angle. She leaped to her feet and tossed her head, somehow fixing it all in that one smooth motion. Jaune almost wanted to throw her again just to see how she did it.

"Stay vigilant," he offered.

Pyrrha's gaze was icy, eyes narrowed to grassy slits. She maintained that glare for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. Jaune laughed along. Now, he decided, might be a good time for a break.

"You've improved, you know," Pyrrha noted as they rested against a pair of apple trees at the side of the sparring grounds. She couldn't help a smile as Jaune registered confusion, and then quickly tried to hide it with nonchalance. "Me? Naw…"

"It's true. It's only been a semester. But even without using your Aura, you make me work for every hit."

Jaune blushed. High praise from a celebrity in her own land. "Well, it's my job as team leader, right? Gotta keep you guessing."

"I absolutely agree!" Pyrrha said. Intermittent explosions punctuated their conversation. Nora Valkyrie, practicing with nonlethal ammunition. They watched their teammate move –frolic_, _rather – as she struck down target after target with Magnhild, laughing and cheering irrepressibly. The way she used her warhammer/grenade launcher seemed random, carefree, and yet each target dummy took a direct hit to its chest. _Glad she's on my team…_ A black-and-green blur weaved among the assembly of mannequins. The targets fell to pieces as Lie Ren struck them, his body just as deadly as his pistols.

The hail of grenades provided him an extra obstacle. Whether Nora intended this or not was entirely up in the air.

Pyrrha looked thoughtful. "Not sure about today, though. Kind of sloppy, if you ask me." She raised a crimson eyebrow, daring Jaune to bite back.

_More than one way to spar, isn't there? _"Says the girl who got herself thrown through the air."

"Please. If I were an Ursa you'd be missing that arm! And maybe I wouldn't even need to be that."

"Pfft. If you were an Ursa you'd be sleeping outside."

Pyrrha's eyes lit up. "Jaune Arc, is that a wager?"

"Is it?"

Pyrrha jumped up and pointed a challenging finger at Jaune. "You. Me. One last spar. First to hit the ground sleeps on it tonight!"

Jaune stood, grinning. "Done. Maybe I'll let you take a pillow with you."

In moments they were back in the center of Beacon's sparring grounds. Jaune and Pyrrha squared off, spear and sword crossed as they laid out the terms of the duel.

"No Semblance?" Jaune said.

"And no Aura," Pyrrha added. "Let's make this quick – Team VILT has the grounds in ten."

"Gotcha. Don't hold back."

"I never do."

They tapped their weapons together once and took three steps back, falling into position. A low whistling sound underscored their preparations. Jaune ignored it. _Right. Wide stance and low to the ground, just like she always says…_ Jaune raised his shield, watching his opponent over its edge. Pyrrha paced back and forth, a predatory gleam in her eye as she spun her spear in one hand. _Wait for it…_

It never came.

The whistling stopped.

And Jaune was thrown bodily away from his opponent. Not for the first time at Beacon, he soared screaming through the air. The academy tilted and spun as he lay stunned. _Where did Pyrrha learn that?_

But as Jaune struggled to a sitting position, he saw that Pyrrha was doing the same. He looked down. They seemed unharmed – just covered in a fine white powder from the explosion. _Ash, probably. _She shook her head to clear it, straightened her circlet and met Jaune's eyes. "That wasn't-?"

"Nope."

"Then who could have-" A gleeful giggle, verging on a cackle, drew their attention to one side. Nora stood there, watching them get their bearings and hugging Magnhild like a teddy bear.

"Sorry!" she called, in a tone that indicated she was not sorry at all. "Couldn't help but overhear." She winked. "Guess you both have to sleep outside now, riiiight?"

Jaune blushed, his dizziness returning with a vengeance. "Well – I – I mean, not that I wouldn't, but I really think-"

"Jaune." Jaune shut his mouth, cut mercifully short by Pyrrha. The Mistralite warrior ran her finger along her armor, picking up some powder and testing it with her tongue. "Do you…taste that?"

Jaune licked his lips. His jaw dropped. "Nora, is this-"

* * *

"Sugar," Ren sighed. He deliberately avoided Nora's eyes as he counted out scoops of powdered Dust for StormFlower's bullets. "Most people use rubber or paint ammunition in their training. Nora uses sugar rounds."

"Shhh! You'll give away my secret!" Nora flicked Ren on the ear and returned to her work. She tipped a burlap sack with SUGAR crossed out and replaced with AWESOME!, carefully pouring a river of sweet crystals into a cartridge.

She had little to worry about. Other than her and Ren, there were only two other people in the workshop.

"I _thought _the school's iced tea was bland lately," Weiss mused. She was seated just a few feet down the workbench from Ren and Nora; Myrtenaster lay in front of her as she extracted spent gray Dust crystals from the cylinder. "Well, I'm sure Ruby would agree that it's probably for the best." _Let's see…red Dust or green?_

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Ruby looked up from oiling Crescent Rose's blade for the first time that hour.

_Definitely red. _"You sleep like a baby," Weiss pointed out, still focused on her work. "Restlessly, and making far too much noise."

"I have some tea that helps with insomnia," Ren chimed in helpfully. Or unhelpfully, depending on one's perspective. Ruby rolled her eyes. "I don't sleep _that_ badly…Nora, back me up?" she whined.

Nora brightened, sweeping her disassembled grenade launcher aside. "One time I got up to get a glass of water and I heard you talking in your sleep about walnuts! You sleeptalk kinda loud, too."

"Not helping."

"Sounds like you need some of my walnut cookies!" Nora sang, returning to her work. "Now, where did I hide that firing pin…" At the mention of cookies Ruby immediately perked up, but before she could say anything Weiss spoke up again.

"By the way, will either of you enter the tournament this weekend?" Weiss had looked up from her disassembly and reloading of Myrtenaster, acutely aware of the potential rivals to her glory.

"Already registered," Ren confirmed, polishing StormFlower one last time. "They release the bracket on Thursday." With a couple of quick clicks, his machine pistols were nestled in his sleeves where they belonged.

Nora sighed, a dreamy expression on her face. "I can't wait! _I _hear the winner gets a year's supply of Dust! Imagine the possibilities…" _Indeed_, thought Weiss. _Some colors you can't buy in stores..._ "I wonder if anyone's tried making Dust tea?" Weiss nearly snapped a yellow Dust crystal in half, but said nothing.

"And ten thousand lien," Ruby said, smiling greedily. "That's what the shipment from Atlas was here for – as much Dust as the winner can carry and more. That'd make a _lot _of bullets…"

Ren nodded. "I certainly could use that. Machine pistols eat Dust like a vacuum." He yawned and rose to leave. "It's getting late. Good evening. Nora?"

Nora beamed and saluted Ruby and Weiss goodnight. "Right behind you!" Weiss could have sworn Nora was in the middle of reassembling Magnhild the last time she looked up, but it looked good as new. _Sometimes I think that girl works on a different plane of existence than we do…_

Weiss and Ruby passed the next few minutes in silence – which, after their first semester on a team together, was finally companionable. Still, as Weiss caught her own reflection staring up at her from Myrtenaster's gleaming blade, she couldn't help but think that there were things still to be said. The previous weekend hadn't really come up in conversation lately.

_She's actually come really far since I met her. She may be impulsive, naïve, and more than a little weird. But she really wants this, doesn't she? She wouldn't be at Beacon if she wasn't serious about being a Huntress. And besides-_

"Weiss? Is something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Weiss was jarred back into the moment, and noticed for the first time that she'd been staring. _Well, not exactly staring…just zoning out in Ruby's general direction. It happens to everyone._ "Oh. No, Ruby, I was just thinking about something."

Ruby cocked her head, waiting for her partner to continue. She didn't. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

Ruby shrugged. "Well, you're usually really focused. But I get distracted all the time when something's on my mind. What's on yours?"

_Nothing_, Weiss wanted to say. Her reflection was back, gazing out at her from Ruby's wide, silver eyes, and Weiss wasn't sure she felt comfortable with her other self's stark appraisal of her. But she didn't look away. There was something else in Ruby's eyes, something she couldn't quite place at first.

_Concern?_

_...That's new._

"It's about Saturday," Weiss found herself saying. "You heard the explosion at the docks and went to help Blake, right?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "It was Penny that really saved the day, though. I wish she'd stuck around, there's so much I still don't-"

"You did a really dangerous thing," Weiss said. A note of reproach was slipping into her voice. Ruby opened her mouth to speak, but Weiss cut her off. "It was dangerous, and impulsive, and you could have easily gotten yourself killed…"

"But she was in danger! I couldn't just leave her!"

"That's what I'm trying to say!" Weiss's voice broke on the last word. She sighed. "You're just that kind of person. Yang and I were on the other side of the city when it happened. She headed straight for the docks…I went and got the police."

Understanding crept into Ruby's eyes. "Weiss, someone had to. It was way bigger than just us. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it." She smiled. "Besides, you saved me from that Death Stalker, remember? I'm not the only one who risks her life for other people."

"That's different." Weiss's voice was trembling now. She looked away from Myrtenaster, away from Ruby, searching for some surface that wasn't reflective. "I didn't even _like _you then. I did it because I had to. You do all these crazy things to help people, and half the time you get blown up or something. But you keep doing them." Weiss swallowed. "And here I am, too busy fighting with other people to see-"

"…That you want to get blown up too?"

Weiss stopped, trying to parse what she'd just heard. _That…that actually makes sense._ She nodded, meeting Ruby's eyes again. Her teammate was smiling like nothing was wrong. _Is anything even?_

"Weiss, I know how it feels. We've both lost people who were important to us. We just deal with it differently. I want to be the best Huntress I can be so I can protect the ones I love. And I get the feeling you want the same thing. You're just…" Ruby hesitated. _Am I going too far?_ she wondered. "Afraid, I guess."

"Excuse me?" Weiss's pale blue eyes went hard.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ruby scrambled, nearly panicking at Weiss's reaction. "I mean, I am too, sometimes. Someone we care about goes away and then we're afraid to care about someone else because what if they go away too, and so we just keep to ourselves, and…" Ruby caught herself, digging her nails into her palm to slow herself down. "I'm…really close to my sister. She basically raised me, and I kinda cling to her because she's always been there. It's hard for me to meet new people, so I try really hard for the ones I do get to know. I'd…want them to do the same for me." Ruby fell silent, catching her breath and trying to read Weiss's expression. Surprise, confusion, and…sympathy?

"Ruby…" Weiss had softened, and for the first time since meeting Ruby the girl had her at a loss for words. She felt something warm in her hand, and became dimly aware that the younger girl's hand had found her way into hers at some point during the conversation. She considered taking her hand away, but decided against it. "I…well, I've never really clung to anyone. With me it's just 'What have you done for me lately?'"

Ruby squeezed Weiss's hand and shook her head. "That's not true. And even if it is, it doesn't make you a bad person. Sometimes we just forget that…that we all need someone, and there's always someone who needs us."

Weiss felt something touch her cheek. She raised her free hand to deal with it and was surprised to find a stray tear. She flicked her gaze away for a second and met Ruby's eyes again. There was still concern in them, along with something else Weiss wasn't used to seeing. Whatever it was, it was feeding a smoldering somewhere deep in her chest that she wanted more of. Weiss opened her mouth, but said nothing. _What more is there to say?_

Several things vied for Weiss's attention – that blossoming warmth in her chest, Ruby's hand tight in hers, the shape of the young Huntress-in-training's lips. Without really focusing on one, Weiss found herself and Ruby leaning closer over the workbench, Crescent Rose and Myrtenaster lying forgotten below them. Each second seemed to introduce things unfamiliar and yet not at all unpleasant to Weiss, sensations blending into each other faster than she could comprehend them. Her reflection in Ruby's eyes, no longer reproachful. The blush rising to Ruby's cheeks like the petals of her Semblance. The warmth of her partner's breath against her face. The softness of her lips, pressed tentatively to Weiss's own.

However long they remained that way, they broke apart all too soon for Weiss. Ruby was silent for a moment, looking at Weiss, then Crescent Rose, then their hands intertwined, then back at Weiss. Weiss herself watched Ruby's eyes dart about. She couldn't help but giggle a little at her. Ruby settled on Weiss's eyes, chips of blue glass in the snow. "Do we…understand each other?" she whispered, as if speaking any louder would shatter such a delicate moment.

Weiss considered saying something, decided against it. She merely nodded.

Ruby smiled then, equal parts relief, uncertainty and contentment. Her cheeks were damp from Weiss's tears. She raised her free hand to dry them off; then, thinking better of it, she reached across to brush the tears from Weiss's face. Weiss tensed at the gesture, but only for a moment.

_I could get used to that._


	3. Opportunities

_Ruby's world was fire._

_The room was ablaze around her. Her mouth was dry – she was sweating and crying all the moisture out of her body, choking on the smoke pouring in under the door like water._

_She faced the door, the window, the door again, the exits beyond her reach. Formerly friendly faces mocked her from the carved wood bars of her crib, their smiles turned to jeers in the flickering firelight. The flames offered a dull glow to the room, glinting in her silver eyes like a red moon at sea._

_Ruby screamed, but knew no words to call for help. She grasped for Crescent Rose, but her beloved scythe was not there. It wouldn't be there for years. She caught sight of her hand, small and frail, batting uselessly at her wooden prison. It was almost as much of a cell as her own infant body._

_Scraps of the outside world tormented her with their vagueness. Beyond her locked door an irregular staccato of explosions fed the roaring fire. Bursts of thunder and gunfire echoed through the hallways, drowning out the indistinct voices fading in and out outside Ruby's bedroom. There were five voices – three high, two low – but Ruby couldn't understand them._

_She rattled the bars on her crib, screaming incoherently, just in time for her door to be ripped from its hinges. It hung from the wall like a sick bat. A wave of heat knocked Ruby off her tiny feet. The figure who'd kicked in the door jumped forward with demonic speed, a wall of fire eating up the hallway behind him. Ruby screamed as the stranger gathered her up, she screamed as he shrugged his coat off and wrapped her up in it, and she screamed as he shielded her body with his and took a running leap out the window._

_They fell into open air, out over the choppy waters of a stormy sea, a sudden coolness enveloping them. As the world rushed dizzyingly upward around them, Ruby heard a sound from above her like a sheet being shaken – _

_And they were flying._

* * *

"Ruby! _Ruby_! _RUBY!"_

_"__No! Get AWAY from me! MOM!"_

"What do I do? Someone help!"

Ruby thrashed in the grip of some unseen person with two voices. If she opened her eyes, they'd both get her.

"Sis! Wake up!"

Ruby heard the slap before she felt it. A stinging blow to the cheek ripped her from a faraway night into this one. Her eyes fluttered open, filling her vision with gold. A quick glance to her right showed her a bunch of white leather suitcases, of the kind Weiss kept in the corner. Something soft tickled the back of her neck. Carpet.

Ruby was on the dorm's floor. She caught her ragged breath, looking up again. Yang was bent over her, her hands on her shoulders, her prized golden locks disheveled, her eyes fading from red to their usual lilac. "Y-Yang?" Ruby whispered. "Is that you?"

Yang sighed as her sister recognized her, pulled Ruby into a hug and kissed her briefly on the forehead. As the older girl shushed her softly, Ruby's eyes adjusted by degrees to the near-total darkness. Weiss was kneeling nearby, one hand held out tentatively toward her, looking stricken. Ruby could just barely discern Blake's outline on her other side. The Faunus girl was outwardly neutral, but her knuckles were white against a shaking Beacon mug.

Ruby caught sight of Weiss's alarm clock.

4:37.

Her shoulders slumped. "Did I wake you?" she asked tonelessly.

"That's hardly our primary concern!" Weiss scooted as close to Ruby as she could without crowding Yang. "Ruby, what was that? What were you dreaming of?" There was a quick scraping sound, and her silver eyes shone in flickering candlelight – Blake had just lit her candelabra.

"Sounded more like a nightmare to me." Blake padded over to Yang's other side and handed Ruby the mug. "Cream and five sugars?" The coffee burned Ruby's tongue, but she nodded and sipped nonetheless.

"Thanks."

An uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by Ruby gently sipping her coffee. Weiss was kneeling awkwardly near her partner, wishing Yang would let her come closer. Blake watched the sisters for any sign of an explanation. Yang was the first to speak.

"Did you have the fire dream again?"

"What?" Weiss, incredulous.

"Fire?" Blake, puzzled.

Ruby downed another gulp of coffee. She stared into the mug. Her silver eyes stared back.

Then, in a small voice: "…Yeah."

* * *

"She used to have it all the time," Yang said over the sound of running water. She'd given up on sleeping through tonight. "After her first term at Signal, we thought it was gone for good."

"But it isn't." Blake was in the shower stall next to Yang's, having elected to help her with an early breakfast later. "Why do you think that is?"

"Beats me."

Blake let that hang between them for a couple of minutes, letting the warm water rinse the shampoo out of her hair. Her cat ears were soaked, but over the shower's noise she picked up a heavy sigh from Yang. She smiled. Being a Faunus wasn't all bad.

"Yang."

"Yeah."

"What happened to her?"

Yang's shower went silent; after a moment, Blake turned hers off as well. Steam billowed up around her. The air conditioning clicked on at that moment. Blake's skin immediately prickled as she became conscious of how cold she was and yet how stuffy the stalls were without the hot water. In moments she was out of the shower, black towels around her hair and her body. She stood in stark contrast to the blue-and-white tiles of the dorm bathroom, matched only by the predawn dark beyond a solitary window. Yang occupied the far end of a bench in the middle of the room, wrapped in a golden towel and furiously drying her voluminous blonde hair with another.

_She's stonewalling. _Blake approached her partner, undaunted. "You know I won't let it go until you tell me."

"Well…" _Whiff whiff whiff whiff whiff _went the towel. Yang shook out her hair, rested her elbows on her knees and exhaled sharply. "It's complicated."

Blake cocked her head, waiting.

"Like, _really _complicated."

"I used to be a terrorist. Try me."

"Yep." Yang blew out her cheeks, cracked her neck and met Blake's eyes. "Tell me what you think you know."

She wasn't making it easy. Blake took that as a sign of respect, for her and for Ruby. "I _think _a recurring dream is usually based in reality. I _think _something happened to Ruby that she's repressed or mostly forgotten. And you two are inseparable – if it happened to Ruby, odds are it probably happened to you."

Yang had that rueful smile Blake had come to recognize – the one that meant she was cornered, usually by creatures of Grimm while on a mission for Beacon. It was a fighting smile.

It made her cat ears twitch.

"Sometimes I think you know me and Ruby better than we do." Yang brushed her hair out of her eyes; it was already starting to regain its bounciness.

_My, but that towel is tight on her_, Blake mused. _No. Bad kitty. _"Maybe. Did something happen to your parents?"

"Well, that's that. You're our long-lost sister, all right!" Bubbly as Yang usually was, it wasn't often that Blake saw her smiles falter. Blake sat down next to her, saying nothing. She'd talk in her own time. Thirty seconds later, she did.

"It's…never been a secret that we're adopted. To either of us. Like, we're blood sisters, but both our real parents are long gone. Ruby was only a baby when Mom died, and that dream is all she knows from the night that it happened. I remember a little more of it, but not much."

As Yang talked about Ruby's dream, she seemed more distant than Blake felt was normal for her. Yang gradually picked up speed as she spoke, at times looking away from or even through her partner. _She's rehearsed this in her head, _Blake inferred._ She's just never performed it. _The dream was the same every time, she learned: always a fire, always a battle, always flying away from it all.

"Not to sound skeptical…but how much of the dream is real? How much of it is...well, a dream?" _The end in particular. An angel? Preposterous._

Yang shrugged. "Well, it's like I said. Ruby's always loved the stories of heroes and monsters I used to tell her. I think part of that is because they're based on truth." Abruptly, Yang replaced her dispassionate expression with her usual beaming smile. "So I guess it makes sense that her dreams are the same way. It doesn't matter whether they really happened or not, as long as the message is clear."

Blake turned to face Yang, yellow eyes searching lilac for a straight answer. "That still doesn't explain why this nightmare would come back after two years. Something had to have happened – something to do with your parents, and recently." _Go easy on her, Blake. Curiosity killed the…well, you know._

But it was too late. Yang was well on her way to being as irrepressibly chipper as she usually was. "You'd have to ask Ruby about that." Yang shook out the controlled chaos of her hair and giggled. "Or Weiss."

_Ah, good – I'm not the only one._ "You've noticed it too?"

"Like you'd notice a Beowolf in your bed!" Yang laughed. "It's so funny how bad they are at hiding it. Remember yesterday morning? Weiss was talking to Ruby at breakfast-"

"And she just kept blithely pouring sugar in her coffee?" _Well, congratulations, Yang. You've successfully derailed this conversation._ Still, Blake couldn't help but laugh with her. "She spit it all over you!"

Yang made a show of cringing. "Ugh, I know! So much in my hair…so much fire…"

"It baked that stuff right into your hair…Why is it that you do that, again? Explode, I mean."

"Who knows? Every Semblance is different."

Another deflection. Blake sensed she was hitting upon something again. "True, but most people can control theirs."

"Hmmm." Yang chose not to pursue that line of questioning. She was looking _at _Blake again, though, now with an appraising gleam in her eyes. Blake wasn't sure she understood it, but she wasn't entirely averse to it. "You know why I think we make good partners, Blake?"

"Because we can both touch our noses with our tongues?"

Yang scooted a little closer to Blake, readjusting her towel to keep her burning-heart insignia straight. Their hips touched. "Definitely. But we're alike in a different way too." _Pause for effect_. _Now I know where her sister gets her sense of humor_. "You don't know it yet, but in a way we're both fighting to figure out who we are. So whenever we see an opportunity…we take it." She had dropped her voice, forcing Blake to lean in to hear her.

And that was when Yang closed the distance and kissed her on the cheek.

There was the steam again, bubbling up within Blake instead of without.

Before Blake had fully registered what just happened, Yang bounced up off the bench, sashaying toward the door and back to their dorm. "Get dressed and meet me in the kitchens," she called over her shoulder, hips swaying in a way that was surely deliberate. "We don't want to be late for when Goodwitch announces the tournament bracket!"

The door closed behind her. Blake sat still on the bench for a good minute and a half, replaying that fraction of a second again and again the entire time. She was blushing furiously, deep red against pure black like an amorous checkerboard. Out of the corner of her eye she could see tinges of turquoise creeping into the dark skies over Beacon. The towel slipped from her hair as she watched the morning break, a few strands falling and dancing across her vision. And dancing. And dancing.

Blake clamped her hands over her cat ears to stop them from twitching.


	4. Players

That morning, as most Thursday mornings, found Glynda Goodwitch scribbling away at the ironwood desk in her office. The room was lit by softly glowing lavender Dust lamps and by her Scroll, the dull buzz of the Vale News Network's opening music vying with her work for her attention. A well-worn quill pen was poised within a hair's breadth of the paper, plucked from the back of a young Nevermore and dyed a brilliant purple.

Glynda eyed the paper but did not write, wary as always of commiting to something that couldn't be erased. By nine in the morning, her paper would have ordinarily been brimming with ink. It was 9:03 now, and Beacon's deputy headmistress had yet to write more than a handful of words. Her pace was in danger of drifting from methodical to sluggish, and it was putting her right off her eggs, hard-boiled slices untouched and cooling off to the side.

She scoffed and tapped the screen of her Scroll, turning up the volume as the morning news began.

"…losses from the freighter incident amounted, as my co-anchor Cyril Ian mentioned, to at least thirty million lien – well short of the precedent set by recent White Fang raids on Schnee Company property, but putting yet another unwelcome dent in their stock in an already trying year. Bianca Reine-Schnee, an influential shareholder, widow of the company's late founder Claus Schnee I and mother of current CEO Claus II, had this to say at yesterday's press release…"

The feed cut from modern, sharply dressed VNN anchor Lisa Lavender to an older woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a wedding in the previous century – tall and stately in a white floor-length dress, silver hair bound in a strict, straight plait, one of many rigid lines that seemed to define her. Her eyes, light blue like the tips of a glacier, betrayed little in the way of emotion as she condemned the attack.

"To put it quite simply, we are faced with a segment of the population that refuses to assimilate. Why would they, when the White Fang dangle our very livelihoods before them like a carrot on a stick? Last week's act of terrorism is yet more proof of the crime and depravity inherent to the Faunus race."

Glynda choked at that last statement, a teacup raised daintily to her lips. Her violent coughing fit scattered tea across the paper and wood, but mercifully drowned out the rest of Bianca Reine-Schnee's tirade. As she dabbed tea off her desk with a nearby handkerchief, a tiny chime interrupted the news report. An alert had popped up in the corner of her Scroll's screen. Ozpin.

Glynda answered without a moment's hesitation. _Anything but this bigot._

The headmaster's face appeared and grew to fill the right half of the screen, pushing a muted Lisa Lavender off to the left. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses askew and his eyes squeezed shut as if against an explosion. Finally he shook his head, exhaled and adjusted his glasses. The gesture was growing uncomfortably familiar to Glynda.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" he said.

Glynda hated raising her voice. Instead she traced her teaspoon around the rim of her teacup, the scraping of silver on porcelain expressing her distaste in all the ways she preferred not to. "Why do they give this woman a microphone?"

"VNN is a Schnee subsidiary. Why wouldn't they?"

_Scraaape. Scraaape. _"Human-Faunus relations have come a long way, Professor. She can't be good for PR."

"Perhaps not, but a Dust monopoly seems to be an effective antidote to boycotts. Besides, with what the Crown pays to keep the border wards running, I doubt she'd notice if we all stopped buying."

On the left side of the screen of Glynda's Scroll, the news had cut to commercials. Gorgeous actors and actresses with straight, flawless teeth were silently extolling the virtues of Shi-nee Toothpaste. A point bright of light glimmered on one man's smile, growing and morphing into the white snowflake of the Schnee Dust Company as the commercial came to a close.

_Scraaaaaaaaape._

Glynda gritted her meticulously brushed and flossed teeth, suddenly and briefly craving sugar.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Naturally. There is the matter of the tournament this weekend…"

There it was. The headmaster trailed off, carefully considering his words and leaving the conversation hanging. Glynda had long ago learned to wait for Ozpin to finish his thoughts at his own pace. Usually it only happened in private, but lately she doubted Ozpin even knew he was doing it. Something was bothering him. By the nature of their professional and personal relationship, whatever bothered Ozpin would soon bother Glynda as well.

Glynda was not in a patient mood today. "You think she's involved."

Ozpin blinked, looking for a moment like Glynda had caught him sleeping through dueling lessons. "In…a manner of speaking," he said, rarely off guard for long. "The paperwork checks out for every entrant except these two."

Glynda's scroll chimed with another alert. She opened the two files Ozpin had sent her, the news long forgotten. Now there were three faces on the screen: Ozpin's and two others'. A slight, dark-skinned girl stared thoughtfully out at Glynda, blood-colored eyes framed by mint-green hair and seeming to scrutinize her even from this picture. A pale man smirked up from below her, unkempt silver hair at odds with the predatory focus in his matching eyes.

"Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black. Recognize them?"

"No."

"You wouldn't. Officially, they don't exist." The two dossiers scrolled down, parts of the contestants' personal information highlighted in red. "Their addresses are abandoned warehouses in Atlas, their academic records are not corroborated by Warden or Sentinel Academies, and their true names can only be guessed at." Ozpin adjusted his glasses, paused, and continued. "These two are off the grid – I can understand that. But they've hidden it so _poorly._"

"So disqualify them for falsifying their applications."

"Out of the question. Anyone who was seriously attempting to do that would at least try to fake a real residence. She's smarter than this. If she truly has conjured them from thin air, we're expected to know."

Ozpin's tone was measured, verging on rehearsed. It left a sour taste in Glynda's mouth – something she had both expected and dreaded. "You've been waiting for this – if indeed this is what you think it is."

"I've been keeping my eyes open," Ozpin began. "This is the first lead we've had in months – one of the only leads we've had in fifteen years." Iron crept into Ozpin's voice. "After that encounter at the Dust shop, Cinder Fall won't dare risk appearing in public."

Glynda was half out of her chair, blonde curls bouncing. "If I hadn't intervened, Ruby would have-"

"Died, yes. We've been over this, and I don't blame you in the slightest. The encounter was an unfortunate fluke, but we need Ruby alive. The downside is that Cinder knows we've been looking for her. She knows we came close. If we ever see her again, it's going to be on her terms." Ozpin had come to dominate Glynda's screen by degrees, and he leaned back in his Mantler steel chair. "Mercury and Emerald are extensions of her will. In exposing them she exposes herself. If this is a trap, we have little choice but to spring it."

"And the children?" Glynda pressed. "Where do they come in?"

Ozpin's hands, folded on his desk, tightened their grip on each other. "We do our best with what we have, while we have them, and ensure they do what needs to be done when the time comes."

The scraping of spoon on cup had long since ceased. Glynda sipped her tea and grimaced. Lukewarm. "Once upon a time, you did what needed to be done. You and Qrow. Why have we spent fifteen years dealing with the consequences? Who's to say our students are prepared to make that sort of decision?"

In years past, questions like that would have killed the conversation entirely. Ozpin's level gaze told Glynda he was considering it. Finally, he rose and took up his cane. "I haven't raised my voice to you in eight years, Glynda, and I'm not about to start again," he said. "Suffice it to say that one perceives a scenario entirely differently from within than from without. I tried the former once, and fifteen years later here we stand."

"Here sit we down to see the mystery and serve for Chorus in this tragedy."

"Don't quote _The Mistralite Tragedy _at me. I'm not suggesting we let the matter pass. We the players have our pieces, and there's a long overdue game to end. Not to win, not to lose – to _end._" Ozpin's knuckles were white on the handle of his cane. Blood rushed back into them as he loosened up, looked at the jade clock on his wall. "And in twenty minutes there's a tournament bracket to announce. I'll see you in the amphitheater in ten." Ozpin's hand drifted to the side of the picture, and the feed cut out.

Glynda was alone in her office again. She dismissed the alarm she'd set to prepare for the announcements, collecting her Scroll and riding crop and rising from her desk. An idle wave of her hand sent her cold, congealed breakfast into the incinerator at the desk's edge; it was a lost cause.

Glynda took a moment to fix her hair in the mirror before she left, trying to avoid her own judgmental stare. _It's a poor professor who plays with the lives of her students,_ she chided herself. _It's a worse one who leaves them to solve her problems, _another part of her responded. She tossed her head back to settle her hair in its usual style of organized carelessness. _But they're not your problems, are they? They just became yours._

She glanced back at the desk with its barely-marked paper, sighed and walked out of the room.

The crossword would have to wait.


	5. Mitigation

**Earlier**

It was Pyrrha's third sunrise that week.

Outside the walls of Beacon, a red-and-gold tent squatted on the edge of the cliffs, a pinprick of brightness in the early spring green. Pyrrha had volunteered her tent over Jaune's, which was covered with cartoon Beowolves dancing paw in paw and better suited for someone half his age. Not that she'd minded, but she'd maintained it would be entirely too small for them.

After Nora had won her bet and blasted her and Jaune out of their dorm for the night, Pyrrha had elected that they camp out for the next couple of days as well. She'd insisted that she and Jaune bring their weapons for extra sparring. After all, the tournament was just a few days off. So she'd spent three nights sharing a tent with Jaune – clumsy, naïve, trusting, funny, handsome Jaune.

Pyrrha traced the mountainous horizon with her eyes, Akoúo̱ on her back and Miló across her lap. Now that Thursday had arrived, she decided she wouldn't have objected to a smaller tent.

A particularly violent snore ripped through the still morning air. The forest seemed to fall silent for a long moment. Pyrrha rolled her eyes as a sparrow tentatively picked up its song again. If they were going to get any practice in before the bracket was announced, it would be up to her to get them both started. She stood, stretched her long legs and walked back to the tent.

"Don't worry…" Jaune was talking in his sleep again. Pyrrha paused outside the entrance, leaning on Miló and bending to hear her team leader. She never mentioned it, but she found Jaune's sleeptalk…endearing. The cloth of the tent brushed her cheek as she listened closer.

"I'll take you on…I eat Grimm like you for breakfast…" Pyrrha giggled. Jaune's confidence could be charming if pointed in the right direction.

"Stay away from her!" Jaune cried suddenly. That got Pyrrha's attention. Could it be…?

"Nobody hurts my snow angel…"

Pyrrha sighed, not for the first time this week. As Jaune defended his dream girl from an onslaught of Grimm, the Mistralite girl pulled her shield from her back and eyed her reflection critically. Pale skin. Cool, bright green eyes. She turned her head slightly to the right. From that angle, her ponytail looked askew, as if fixed on the right side of her head. A little like Weiss.

_But it's good enough for him, isn't it?_

Another snore shook her out of her thoughts. Pyrrha growled and twisted herself into a crouch. With a practiced uncoiling of muscle, she shot up to her full height and tossed Akoúo̱ high in the air. As her reflection glared at her from the face of her shield, she took aim and fired a shot. It hit Akoúo̱ dead center, ringing it like a bell.

A yelp from the tent. Pyrrha smiled, expertly catching her shield and listening to Jaune scramble. _One problem at a time, girl. One problem at a time._

* * *

"One problem at a time, my fine furry Faunus. I'm doing my part. Just see that you do yours." The voice's nonchalance masked an undertone that insisted the subject be dropped. Despite its soft-spoken delivery it filled the room, filled a drab metal box with an equally austere table dominating the center. The voice's owner had seen the inside of countless police interrogation rooms, and couldn't help but feel on trial once more.

Roman Torchwick considered himself a patient man, but the White Fang had a special talent for getting under his skin. Especially when they spoke to him face to face. The Grimm masks were pure vanity, of course. It didn't matter what statement the masks may have made about human-Faunus relations; it was easy to talk down to a faceless mook like the one guarding the door. Faceless mooks didn't scare Roman.

But the man sitting on the other side of the long table was sure as hell trying to. He saw no need to hide his face behind masks or closed doors, and that won him Roman's grudging respect. Not fear, no, none of that. But even the king of Vale's criminal underground insisted on keeping a room brightly lit when Felix Verdigris was around. He was some flavor of cat Faunus, after all, and his brilliant green eyes glowed all the brighter in any darkness. Roman considered himself fairly egalitarian when it came to race, but he still found that particular genetic trait unnerving.

This wasn't lost on Felix. The White Fang's leonine lieutenant steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his shaggy mane of green hair casting just enough of a shadow for his eyes to sparkle. "Tukson's Book Trade is having a going-out-of-business clearance a week from tomorrow, Roman. Our former comrade announced it two months ago, and two months later here we sit discussing it."

Roman was having none of it. "Spare me the theatrics and sit up straight. The Vytal Festival is right around the corner, remember? I wouldn't kill a small business owner during his peak season unless I _really_ wanted the attention. Would you?"

"You have me there," conceded Felix. "Unfortunately for the two of us, a colleague of mine has us both. Perry, if you would?" He held up his hand, and was immediately given a manila folder by a bodyguard with distinctive round glasses over his Grimm mask. Felix slid the folder across the table to Roman. "Open it."

"Family photos?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Roman broke the seal on the folder and flipped through the documents inside. They were mostly police reports with accompanying pictures: ransacked apartments, shattered storefront windows, anti-human graffiti. It was nothing new to Roman. His men – meaning Junior Xiong's men, for the most part – had been responsible for plenty of similar crimes. "I'm not seeing the connection."

"Most of it is Vacuan trash, copies of the Equilibrium Police Department's White Fang records from the past six months. Skip to late April and early May."

Roman flicked through the papers, muttering under his breath as he picked out and lined up relevant details. "Don't know why we wouldn't just…"

His blood froze.

_April 28__th__. City of Equilibrium, outskirts. Reported brawl in the Smokescreen, a nomad-frequented bar. Nine (9) injured, three (3) killed. Male victim, Faunus, pale skin, red eyes, approx.. 5'7", probable White Fang connections due to neck tattoo. Blunt force trauma to head, arms, torso._

_May 1__st__. City of Equilibrium, Market District. Police shootout. Six (6) injured, two (2) killed. Male victim, Faunus, pale skin, red eyes, approx. 5'8", probable White Fang connections. Blood loss resulting from gunshot wound in neck._

_May 4__th__. City of Equilibrium, Wharf District. Grand theft. Jet ski stolen. Male suspect, Faunus, pale skin, red eyes, approx.. 5'9"…_

"Someone's been busy," Roman growled through clenched teeth. "Bored with the caravan raids, no doubt." He tried not to look too long at the pictures. Several of them showed a badly beaten or gun-shot corpse from various angles. That in itself was just another day at the office.

But the man in the picture had apparently died in two separate locations, three days apart, and lived to steal a ride east. _That _set Roman's teeth on edge.

"Carmine Ophidius, a field lieutenant of ours. You've never met him, but I've mentioned him in the past." Felix clicked his tongue. "The…proactive one."

Roman snorted. "_Proactive_. You White Fang types really have a way with words, don't you? Reminds me of myself." He tossed the papers and pictures aside, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I get it. Either we take out the trash now, or your pet snake does it for us, and with a higher…score, if you will."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Felix smiled. The expression didn't touch his shining eyes. "My business may be war, but I don't revel in bloodshed."

"I know just the people for the job. Boss lady won't like it, of course."

The smile remained. "I'm far beyond caring what she likes."

That actually drew a laugh from Roman. _Maybe we have more in common than I think. _He stretched, pushed back his chair and rose to leave. "You know, Felix, I like you. Granted, you're waging a war with my species, but you're so _practical _about it. Why do you keep that bloodthirsty serpent around?"

Felix shrugged, stood and straightened his rumpled gray suit. "What can I say? His methods are reckless, but his results are undeniable. Although…" A smooth green tail flicked languidly back and forth behind the distracted Faunus.

Roman tapped the felt brim of his hat. "Sentences don't end with ellipses."

Felix chuckled. "They don't at that." A few seconds passed before he picked up where he left off. "It's…difficult to keep a leash on Carmine. More so given that he holds the same rank as Cobalt and I. Don't be surprised if he turns up dead again. He's restless in his own skin. I suppose that's why he enjoys shedding it."

"Guess so." Roman crossed to the door, fingers already twitching as he thought of his next engagement. Yet he couldn't quite resist his own curiosity. "Gotta say, though, I'm still surprised you folks are in the business of killing your own. Don't you have people like me to worry about?"

His easy grin was met and matched by a cold smile from Felix, who looked for all the world like he'd just finished scarfing down a mouse. "I was raised religious, Roman. A Radiant like me believes in weeding his own garden before planting in another's."

Roman nodded, unimpressed. Felix never gave straight answers unless it was absolutely necessary, and he had an annoying habit of signaling when he was through giving any. As he left the meeting room and headed off for a chat with Cinder's pet killers, Roman scoffed at the melodrama of it all. _Weeding gardens. Ridiculous. He knows I hate when he blows holy smoke up my ass. _Besides, Roman knew for a fact that the Radiant Church of Remnant also prophesied deliverance from the Grimm, in the form of a woman made of light. He'd believe _that_ when he saw it.

* * *

**A/N**

Back to it then. I have a pretty sizable outline that I keep coming back to and fleshing out, but it can take something pretty big to inspire me to keep going. It may seem disjointed, but I'll tie it all together soon.

Rest in peace, Monty. I've loved your work for half my life. I'll love your legacy for the rest of it.


	6. Welcome

Jaune and Pyrrha raced each other across the fields, morning dew splashing their legs as they cut through the grass and back to the school grounds. Jaune figured it wasn't much of a race, when you thought about it; he knew for a fact that Pyrrha ran to the cliffs and back each morning before he'd even gotten breakfast. She was pacing herself so he could keep up.

But Jaune also knew that she was having to pace herself less and less. She ran faster every week, and that meant _he _was getting faster. Her long-legged strides still left him in the dust, but at least now he could enjoy the view…if he were so inclined.

_Wonder what Weiss is up to?_ In distracting himself from the burning effort in his leg muscles and his elevated heart rate, Jaune landed on something that made his heart beat all the quicker.

The last time they'd spoken was Monday, when she'd finally deigned to spar with him after her teammates had conveniently paired off with the rest of Team JNPR. Jaune had envisioned a friendly swordfight, longsword on rapier, and his excitement had mounted when Weiss had agreed to _maybe _go to that new Spruce Willis movie with him afterward. He'd only faltered a little when she laid out her terms.

"You and I are…acquaintances," Weiss had said. "But I suppose an afternoon in the city with you won't kill me. I only have one condition."

"Name it!"

Weiss had tried to keep from smirking, though not very hard. "Hit me once before I wipe the floor with you."

To Jaune's credit, he'd approached the challenge with a smile, but inside he'd crumbled, and it showed. Jaune's slashes were sluggish compared to Weiss's elegant parries, and she'd entertained the one-sided melee for all of ten seconds before backflipping over his head, trapping him spread-eagled in a glyph, and spinning him like a top while she pulled out her Scroll and checked her email.

_Just when it seemed like they'd forgotten about "Vomit Boy…"_

"Jaune! Five minutes!" Pyrrha's voice cut through his embarrassing memory, pulling him firmly back to their race across the grounds, wind crashing against their armor, ruffling their hair as they sprinted for the amphitheater. The alabaster walls of Beacon Academy loomed larger every second, and Jaune could just make out the machinery atop the tower that served as Ozpin's office. The intricate mass of green crystal and bronze gears was still a mystery to him, but somehow Pyrrha could read it like a clock. Jaune put his head down and summoned an extra burst of speed, closing the distance between himself and Pyrrha.

_One day I'll be good enough for Weiss. That's all a defeat is, after all. It's an inspiration to improve. _Wrapped up in strategizing for future battles, Jaune almost didn't notice the wind pick up around him. A savage gust blew up from behind him with all the warning of a comet, sending his hair into his face and knocking him off balance. With a cry and a curse he tripped, hopped and rolled off course, the freak wind and his own clumsiness sending him somersaulting solidly into the wrought-iron south gate of Beacon Academy.

All noise in the vicinity – the thud, clatter and clang of Jaune's fall, the concerned voice of Pyrrha asking if he were okay, the chime of Beacon's bells sounding the half hour – were drowned out by a mighty roar from above. Jaune shook the confusion out of his head and could just see Pyrrha kneeling beside him, concern written in her eyes, cheeks red from exertion and from the cool spring wind, looking wildly from him to the sky and back.

The roar tapered off to a dull hum as a massive airship surged ahead of them, flying low over the walls of Beacon, flattening the grass, rustling the trees with the power of its four great engines. Six wings extended behind it, six intimidating spikes on a gray, half-kilometer monolith which dominated the sky and cast the entire academy into shadow. A cloud of smaller ships followed it in a loose formation, taking up positions around the flagship and drifting slowly around the school's airspace.

Jaune and Pyrrha watched in awe as the mighty ship hovered over the school, docking at the top of Beacon's central tower. The low growl of the air fleet's engines filled the air, and Pyrrha cringed as Jaune spoke up a little too loud, overestimating the sound to compensate for it.

"Pyrrha, what's going on? Is it an invasion?" Jaune raised himself up on his elbows, and Pyrrha abruptly became quite aware of his prone body leaning against her torso for support. Not that he'd notice, of course.

She shook her head, watching the fleet's movements like a mouse watches a hawk. "No…it's a visit."

"A visit? From who?"

* * *

Ozpin brushed crumbs off his suit and dodged a breadstick. "Glynda, I know you're more reasonable than this."

"Don't talk to me about reason!" Glynda retorted, whipping another breadstick off the table with a wave of her riding crop. This one grazed Ozpin's ear, but he did not flinch. "Or maybe you'd like to explain why you brought Ironwood all the way here from Atlas?" Ozpin ducked an apple. "Why didn't you consult me?" Glynda's normally carefully arranged bun had fallen into disarray, and was in danger of collapsing entirely about her shoulders.

The green room adjoining the amphitheater was a cozy space with overstuffed couches and a dark gray shag carpet, littered now with the food that Ozpin had ordered laid out for the arrival of Atlesian General James Ironwood. The headmaster cast a disappointed gaze around. "You realize you're making a poor case for yourself." Ozpin appeared to twitch, then tapped his cane against the floor for emphasis, a thrown orange falling in two halves in front of him.

"Don't change the subject!" Glynda panted, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and breathing deeply. When she'd collected herself, she waved her crop and arranged the food on the table as it had been, if a little less tastefully. After the spread was repaired to her satisfaction she rounded on Ozpin and crossed her arms, her hair rearranging itself with a snap of her fingers. "You know how I feel about him."

"Of course." Ozpin took a long sip of his coffee, deliberately drawing out the action. "I also know how you once felt."

The silence was broken only by the sound of Ozpin sipping his coffee, which Glynda swore was meant to throw her off guard, and she was having none of it. She tapped her fingers impatiently against her arm. "_I'm _concerned with the military buildup in the airspace of a school. If you think for a moment that what we had has anything to do with this-"

"Then I grossly underestimate you," Ozpin said. "You're not wrong, Glynda. That fleet is none too pleasant to have to host. But I'm afraid he insisted."

"And yet you didn't refuse," Glynda countered. "You can be honest with me."

"I certainly can, and the truth is that I'm not taking any chances with our school's safety. Not with Cinder at large and willing to deploy forces against major targets. Wherever the General is, that's the most secure place in all of Vale. Perhaps all of Remnant." Ozpin drifted over to the amphitheater entrance, cracking the door slightly and allowing the noise of the crowd beyond to drift into the room.

"Listen to them, Glynda." Ozpin gestured toward the door, beyond which waited the students of Beacon Academy and exchange students from every other kingdom. "They've dreamed of this since the day they enrolled. This is their chance to prove how far they've come as Hunters. Not just to us, but to themselves." He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug aside. "I won't have that chance disrupted. It may be a long time before they get another, and the Grimm will not wait…nor will anyone else."

Glynda crossed the room and placed a hand on Ozpin's shoulder, searching him for anything he might be holding back. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it. His eyes betrayed nothing but tiredness, which lately had ceased to tell her anything meaningful. These were tiring times.

"I've trusted you for a long time, Ozpin." A moment's hesitation, then: "I'm sure Qrow trusts you too."

Ozpin closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again. A smile forced its way to the surface. "It's more than I deserve."

"You deserve so much more." Glynda returned the smile, then moved her hand from Ozpin's shoulder and slapped him across the face. "But next time, tell me when we're having guests."

As Glynda flounced out of the green room and toward center stage, Ozpin raised a hand to his reddened cheek and smiled. "You still have a hair out of place," he called after her.

* * *

"They're late," Weiss complained. She had turned away from the stage and was buffing her nails for what seemed to Ruby like the sixth time that morning. They were already polished to mirror brightness, the lights of the amphitheater shining dazzlingly in them.

Ruby leaned on her partner's shoulder perhaps a little more gently than she usually bothered to. "Why do you keep complaining? It's just an announcement." She drew back from Weiss's exasperated sigh.

"Of course, Ruby, it's _just _an announcement. _Just _the announcement of the bracket for the most important tournament of our lives so far!" Weiss tapped her foot impatiently, causing Myrtenaster to bounce gently against the metal bench she was perched on. _Clink clink clink clink clink clink-_

"Aww, lighten up, princess!" Yang ruffled Weiss's hair, causing her teammate to duck wildly out of her reach. "We've trained hard for a whole semester. What are you worried about?"

The clinking stopped. Weiss slipped her nail file into a pocket and turned huffily to face Yang. "We're not the only ones who have worked at this night and day, but practice is only part of our preparation. The sooner I know who I'm up against, the sooner I can plan for them, and the sooner I can prove myself." Weiss glanced anxiously back toward the stage on their right, still devoid of Professors Ozpin and Goodwitch. "But I can't do that if they aren't here!"

"Oh! Speaking of people who aren't here, has anyone seen Jaune and Pyrrha?" Ruby craned her neck to look over at the half of Team JNPR that had shown up to the assembly. Ren was seated closer to the front of the stands, still and straight in stark contrast to his partner. Nora, as ever, could barely be contained, bouncing up and down in her seat as she waited for the assembly to begin.

She wasn't alone. The entire amphitheater was packed from floor to stands with students, the impatient crowd broken into four masses of shifting color. There were the uniforms of Beacon Academy up in the west stands, gold trim on black opposite the muted gray ranks of Haven Academy. The ground was a study in contrasts as students from Concord and Sentinel Academies mingled, the casually dressed Vacuans easily discernible from the impeccably attired ranks of Atlesian students.

"Look at them all," Ruby said, pointing at the perfect rows of silver and white. "It's like an army down there, isn't it?"

"You're not wrong," Weiss said. "All the Atlesian school uniforms are based on the country's military; the boys' uniform is patterned after our army, and the girls' after our navy."

"Nnngh. That sounds weird. I don't want to be a soldier." Ruby wondered what it must be like, living in the strongest military power in the world.

"Is it any different from being trained to kill Grimm? We're learning to fight either way."

Before Ruby could respond, Weiss seized her hand and shushed her. "Quiet! The door's opening!"

She pointed to a door on stage left, through which Glynda and Ozpin had finally appeared. They crossed the stage, heads together and whispering as they surveyed the crowd. Ozpin stood center stage in front of an old-fashioned microphone, checking a silver pocketwatch, looking from its face to the amphitheater's entrance.

"What's he waiting for?" Weiss demanded, her grip tightening on Ruby's hand. Ruby winced; she doubted Weiss noticed that she was crushing her hand, but at the same time the warm tingle in her chest told her that she didn't really want her partner to let go.

None of this escaped the ever-watchful eyes of Yang. She leaned closer to Blake, who had been absorbed in a copy of _The Mistralite Tragedy _this entire time. "Awww. Don't they make a cute couple?" Blake tensed at Yang's whispered words, keenly aware of her partner's formidable blonde mane tickling her right arm. She was a shameless enough flirt in private, but she seemed almost more so now that they were surrounded by people. _It's not that I don't like her. It's just too much too soon._ Blake sighed. _As if now were the time to discuss it._ She tried to focus on her book again. It was a very old play, written at least four hundred years ago in Atlas. The main character was just about to begin his play-within-a-play, acting opposite his son's killers. _The plot is laid of dire revenge…Pursue revenge, for nothing wants but acting of revenge…_

A warm breath on Blake's neck set her off. In a single motion she snapped the book shut with her left hand and brought her right arm up to shield herself. "Whoa!" Yang pulled back from the covert kiss as if electrocuted, narrowly avoiding an open-handed blow to the face. She watched Blake carefully, looking somewhat pained, the brightness in her eyes dimmed now by concern. It was enough to make Blake regret her instinctual response. She glanced around quickly – nobody seemed to have noticed – and met Yang's eyes again.

"Sorry…just…I'm sorry. Not here." Blake hissed. She lowered her arm slowly as Yang pursed her lips and nodded. "Sorry," she returned. Neither of them broke eye contact, but the moment was thankfully brought to a halt by a loud whirring and clunking that seemed to come from beneath them. Yang whirled, her easy smile returning in an instant. "You guys, the doors are opening again!" Blake leaned forward to see around her partner, wondering who else could be arriving.

The crowd down below parted, a hush spreading over the room as the sound of the heavy doors opening gave way to a regular click of metal on metal. Team RWBY couldn't see much from their position in the stands, but soon enough a line of metal figures came into view, and then another, and another, a rigid formation of robots filling the center of the auditorium. Weiss recognized the insignia of the Atlesian army on the human soldiers that followed behind them, and gasped as they stopped, allowing the man they guarded to make his way through them and stride powerfully toward the stage. "That's-"

"Students of Beacon Academy!" Ozpin's voice called for attention from the stage, amplified by the amphitheater's acoustics. "Friends and guests from Sentinel, from Haven, from Concord. It is with great pleasure that I welcome you once again to these halls of learning. You are gathered here for an opportunity to prove your worth as future Huntsmen and Huntresses. You are here for our time-honored Vytal Tournament." He paused, nodding to the heavily guarded guest as he ascended the stage.

The man shook hands with Ozpin, exchanging his warm smile with the headmaster's courteous nod and Glynda's cold stare. He was slightly shorter than Ozpin, but he had a confident presence that seemed to elevate him far above the rest of the room, to say nothing of the honor guard now occupying the space below the stage. His hair was dark, graying at the edges, and his white overcoat shone brightly in the lights of the stage, so that it was difficult to look at him for too long from the crowd.

Down toward the front of the stands, Ruby could just hear shuffling and muttered apologies as Jaune made his way to the rest of his team, followed gracefully by Pyrrha, but she was too absorbed in the new arrivals to pay attention to Team JNPR. _Those robots…they're Atlesian Knight-200s! They're top-of-the-line! Look at that streamlined chassis! And those rifles… _"Weiss, who is this guy? He's so cool!"

"That's-" But Weiss was interrupted again.

"Before I and Miss Goodwitch announce the bracket, we'd like to welcome a surprise guest to Beacon to open the festivities. Our friends from Haven will recognize him; please give a warm welcome to their headmaster, and General of the Atlesian Army, James Ironwood." The man stepped forward, arms spread in a gesture of welcome, and waved brightly to the audience's applause. The light glinted sharply off a strip of metal above his right eye, and as he waved Ruby noticed he had a plain white glove on his right hand. His right arm moved somewhat more stiffly than his left, almost as if on strings.

The applause died down, and Ozpin retreated, giving the floor to Ironwood. The general adjusted the microphone and smiled, speaking as if to old friends. "Thank you, Headmaster. And thank you, students of Remnant, for once again-"

"Justice for Blackbranch!"

Ironwood paused, sweeping his gaze around the audience, and chuckled. "As I was saying-"

"Arrest James Ironwood for war crimes!"

A second voice had joined the first, and then a third; as the shouts became chants, three Atlesian Knights broke from their ring around the stage and moved through the crowd toward the source. A small group of Atlesian students was calling up to the stage, made easily visible by the growing ring around them as their classmates shifted uneasily away. Two humans, a deer Faunus and a dog Faunus were clapping and chanting slogans as the Knights neared them.

"Arrest James Ironwood for war crimes! Arrest James Ironwood for war crimes! No airstrikes for peace!" The chanting dissolved into mutters, boos and catcalls as Ironwood's guards spoke to the rabble-rousers, motioning sternly and then escorting them from the room. Ruby looked back up at the stage as the debacle played out. Glynda looked furious, a glare fixed on Ironwood, arms crossed and tapping her riding crop quickly against her shoulder; Ozpin wore a resigned frown; Ironwood was impassive. He turned back to the other two professors, saying something to them and gesturing to his students, and returned to the microphone, watching the four troublemakers as they left the amphitheater. The doors ground shut behind them, and the room was silent once more.

Ironwood cleared his throat and continued. "Sincerest apologies. I know the rest of you will agree to lay aside politics in the days to come."

As the general officially opened the tournament, Ruby found that she wasn't paying attention to his words. The incident was nagging at her, and she didn't know why something like that would have disrupted the ceremony. Wasn't everyone excited for the tournament? "What did those students mean? What did-" Weiss did not seem to hear her, absorbed suddenly in an email alert from her Scroll. Ruby turned back to Yang and Blake, who both seemed equally uncomfortable. "What did they mean? What's Blackbranch?"

Yang shrugged and said nothing, for once at a loss for words. Blake's eyes remained fixed on Ironwood, betraying no emotion. "Ruby, were you aware that there are no White Fang in Atlas?"

Ruby cocked her head, confused; then her breath caught in her throat as she imagined what that might mean. She turned back to the stage, watching Ironwood talk about unity, about survival, about the inherent strength and compassion of human and Faunus alike.

She'd long since ceased to notice Weiss's vice-like grip on her hand.


	7. Summons

The press of students spilling out of the amphitheater was abuzz with talk of the upcoming tournament and their first missions that were to follow. These missions were to be their first efforts in the field as a team, and up against a real Grimm threat. But the tournament was single elimination, and all about individual performance. Speculation, strategy, and complaints flew through the halls: this person is completely outmatched in round one, that person is clearly Ozpin's favorite, wouldn't it be cool if these two fought?

All the excited babble flowed around Team RWBY as they navigated the human river back to their dorm. They were all caught up in other things: Weiss in her Scroll, Ruby in Weiss, Blake in her book. Only Yang spoke, perhaps a little too loudly, over the tournament chatter.

"So, how about that bracket? We're all up against Concord students, isn't that crazy? Not that I'm complaining, those Vacuan boys look like they know their way around a fight…"

Weiss tapped furiously on her Scroll's screen as they entered the quad, the students scattering from the amphitheater's entrance.

"I tell you what, I really want a shot at Pyrrha. She's untouchable in our training sessions, but I think if I get close enough I can slip a few past her."

Ruby kept rising up on her toes to see what Weiss was typing, occasionally whispering questions, but her partner was clearly not listening. They passed through the shadow of the statue, _Vigilance_, the stone Huntsman and Huntress keeping eternal watch over Beacon's grounds. A stone Beowolf howled below them, ever hungry, ever present.

"Shame about Jaune, though. I don't think anyone from Vacuo has gone straight melee in fifty years."

Blake ignored her, pretending to read as she and her team navigated the dorm hallways. She had just gotten to the part of _The Mistralite Tragedy _where the hero bites out his own tongue. A rather exasperated part of Blake found itself imagining Yang doing the same. Her partner continued to do battle with the silence all the way home, and her voice rang all the louder now that they were relatively alone.

The four of them filed into their room, a tense quiet seizing its moment as Yang paused for breath. Weiss abruptly broke off from the group and sat at her desk, still absorbed in her mystery correspondence. Ruby hovered uncertainly at her shoulder, trying and failing to see what the fuss was about. If Weiss noticed, she was doing a spectacular job of hiding it. Blake stood in the center of the room for a moment, reading. Right as the door closed behind her she snapped the book shut and slipped it back onto the shelf above her desk. Without a word, she retrieved a black case from under her desk. It was emblazoned with her insignia, and she took a quick peek inside as if to check if Gambol Shroud had somehow disappeared.

"Where you headed?" Yang asked as Blake made for the door.

"Target range," Blake threw over her shoulder, already halfway out.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Yang was abruptly alone.

She crossed her arms and sighed, looking from Weiss and Ruby to the door and back. _What happened all of a sudden? Everywhere I look it's gloom and doom._ She opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment Weiss stood up sharply with a muffled shift of wood on carpet. She stalked over to her bed and threw herself face down on it. Her head was buried in a pillow, her Scroll discarded on her desk as she lay motionless.

Yang's heart, shaken already by Blake's reticence, throbbed at her teammate's distress, and came perilously close to breaking at the sight of her sister's expression. Ruby looked as helpless as Yang had ever seen her. Her little sister couldn't take her eyes off Weiss, who was shivering slightly as if abandoned outdoors in the winter.

For once there was nothing Yang felt she could say to lighten the mood. She sidled her way to Weiss's desk, being careful not to make too much noise. She picked up her teammate's Scroll; she'd memorized the password quite by accident.

_Thank you, peripheral vision. 3878. Time to get to the bottom of this—Oh. _Oh.

Weiss's scroll opened on her email client, a message glowing softly in contrast to the words within:

_Miss Schnee:_

_Your grandmother has seen fit to inform you that she will be visiting Beacon Academy during her executive tour of the city of Vale. Madame Reine-Schnee wishes to attend your matches during the Vytal Tournament so that she might assess your performance and potential as a Huntress. It would be in your best interest to demonstrate the utmost care in your conduct and skill in her presence. As always, she expects exemplary results from her granddaughter and eventual successor as chief executive and matriarch of the company and family alike._

_She will see you for tea at precisely 4 o'clock on Monday. Be waiting at the gates of Beacon no later than 3:30._

_Warmest regards from the office of Bianca Reine-Schnee, President Emerita of the Schnee Dust Company._

_Warmest regards._ Yang almost laughed at the irony. _Whose grandmother talks to her granddaughter like this? _Then she reread the name. _Bianca…wait, the anti-Faunus lady from the news? _She's _your grandma? Dang. No wonder she's so uptight._

She looked back at Weiss, her stomach twisting at the sight of her teammate reduced to hiding from the world. Before she could say anything, she felt a hand on her forearm. Yang turned to look at Ruby, who had been reading over her shoulder. Her sister gently plucked Weiss's scroll out of Yang's hand and read through the email again. Ruby's mouth was a thin, morose line across her normally bright face.

"Go talk to Blake," she whispered to her big sister. "I'll handle this."

Yang wanted to protest, but Ruby's expression was unusually composed and resolved, brooking no argument. She nodded and made to leave. After Yang retrieved Ember Celica she slipped out the door, quietly shutting it behind her.

Now it was just Ruby and Weiss. The silence between them was thick with unease, and Ruby could hear quiet sobs coming from Weiss's bed. She looked at the Scroll again. Weiss had been typing furiously, but she hadn't responded to the email and there was nothing waiting to be sent. She must have typed out a response, then erased it, then typed, then erased, over and over and never coming close to an appropriate answer. There wasn't one.

Ruby set Weiss's Scroll down on the desk and sat on the edge of her partner's bed, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Weiss? How are you?" She immediately regretted asking such an obvious question. "Weiss?" she prompted, after a moment without an answer.

"Don't look at me."

"Weiss, I-"

"_Don't look at me._" Ruby felt Weiss shift under her hand and averted her eyes once she saw that her partner was turning toward her. She supposed there were worse ways to communicate.

Weiss cried softly, doing her best to mask the sounds. Her sniffles thwarted her. Finally her voice drifted up to Ruby. "Why now?" she whispered weakly. "Why here?"

"Talk to me, Weiss." Ruby squeezed her shoulder. "Your grandma…why is she so…" She glanced back at the Scroll, thinking of the message. So cold, so impersonal, and yet so powerful to Weiss. "…that way?"

A wave of heaving sobs contorted Weiss's body. "It's my fault," she breathed.

"Weiss, what's your fault?" Ruby bit her lip, regret stinging her instantly. "No, I mean—what happened?" Tears were her only answer. She tried again. "Weiss, whatever happened, you don't deserve to be made to feel this way."

Weiss's breath hitched in her throat. "You don't know."

"What don't I know?"

"Why do you think I became a Huntress in the first place?" Weiss cried, batting Ruby's hand away weakly.

"Weiss, you-" Ruby threw delicacy to the wind and looked down at her partner.

She saw only despair.

Weiss's face was twisted into a mask of guilt. She was red with the effort of uncontrollable crying, eyes puffy with tears that crisscrossed her normally pale cheeks. Her breath was shallow, ragged, as if her own conscience were strangling her. She was so wracked with pain that Ruby barely noticed her own eyes brimming with tears.

Weiss seized Ruby's hands in hers and buried her face in the younger girl's shoulder. "Dunce…I told you not to look."

"You don't have to hide anything from me." Ruby whispered, rubbing Weiss's back and shushing her.

They stayed like that for as long as it took for Weiss's crying to burn itself out of her. Ruby held the older girl tight as she'd hold Crescent Rose in battle, tighter even. "I'm here for you, Weiss," Ruby said. Her arm was numb from the pressure of Weiss's face against her shoulder, her cape soaked with Weiss's tears, but Ruby was beyond caring about that. "As a leader, as a friend, as whatever you need me to be."

At last Weiss took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away. Her head was cocked to the side, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Ruby. She met Ruby's eyes. It was a start. "Did you know I have a sister?"

"You never told me. What's she like?"

Weiss sighed. "Her name is Winter. She's about a year younger than you. She's a lot like you, you know. She sees the good side of most everything, even when it doesn't seem like there is any to see."

"She sounds wonderful!" Ruby smiled. "Why haven't you told us about her before?"

"We haven't spoken in a while. She's too weak to travel. She's been that way for five years now." Weiss's hands balled into fists, useless at her sides. "Blackbranch was a resort village in the mountains of western Atlas. She was learning to ski there. I didn't go…we'd had some petty argument and I stayed home to practice with my Semblance." Weiss's voice wavered, but held. "The White Fang picked that moment to attack."

Ruby listened intently as Weiss told the story of a mountain hamlet under siege by the White Fang, the heiress's younger sister taken hostage by Faunus extremists, a ransom of 250 million lien demanded for her safe return. "My father was heartbroken, but refused to negotiate. He appealed before the Atlesian High Council and sicced the army on Blackbranch. That was the beginning of a four-week siege." Weiss's tears had run dry, and her voice was level now, quiet, certain. "Ruby, every other day they'd release a video of my sister, a nine-year-old girl with guns pointed at her head while she read a list of their demands. It was torture."

It was all Ruby could do to keep from breaking down herself. "How did it end?"

Weiss gave a dry cough of a laugh. "It's never really ended for her. Ironwood was a brigadier general back then, and he volunteered to lead a team to infiltrate Blackbranch. Nobody knows what exactly happened, but a firefight broke out and Ironwood called an airstrike on his position. It was a desperate move, but it worked. He and my sister were the only ones who made it out…and the army just kept firing. They didn't stop until the town was leveled, and half the mountain with it. Most of the Atlesian White Fang were there, and the army wasn't going to let this opportunity go. Not a single one made it out." Weiss shrugged. "The White Fang haven't touched Atlas in the years since. None of the other kingdoms were willing to go that far."

"Weiss…I don't know what to say. Your sister…"

"Got out alive…but her Aura never recovered. I suppose you can guess why."

Ruby nodded. She remembered Uncle Qrow telling her during Aura lessons at Signal. "Your Aura is like your immune system. It protects you even when you can't control it, and it can surge out in this huge burst when you're in danger. That's what happened, isn't it?"

"Winter lived, but at the cost of her Aura. She hadn't developed her Semblance and now never will. My family keeps her under close watch at all times. She doesn't even leave our home because something might happen to her." Weiss swallowed hard. "And that's where my grandmother comes in. She pushes me hard to succeed where I failed."

Ruby was speechless. "Weiss, what do you mean? You didn't do anything!"

"Exactly!" Ice had entered Weiss's voice, her cold blue eyes. "There's nothing I can't do with my glyphs. I can manipulate gravity, I can speed up time, I can create shields. If I had been there I could have done _something _for her."

"No!" Ruby leaped up, cracking her head painfully on her bed. It swayed above Weiss's bed, the ropes creaking perilously. She shrugged off the pain, talking faster and faster as she took Weiss's hand in hers. "Weiss, you _can't _blame yourself for what happened to Winter! You couldn't have known the White Fang would attack, or that the army would do what they did! And even if you could have, just beating yourself up about it doesn't make it better!"

Weiss smiled sadly and brushed Ruby's own tears away. "You saying that means a lot to me, Ruby. But when you grow up hearing something, when it surrounds you for years and you can't escape it…you start to believe it. Even if you know it's not true, even if you want to believe otherwise. When someone keeps repeating it, especially your grandmother…you can't help but wonder. That's why I want to be a Huntress. I have to be able to protect those who can't protect themselves."

Ruby looked down at her hands and Weiss's, fingers intertwined and tracing each other gently. Then she looked back at Weiss, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. "Then I'll just have to keep doing it."

Weiss looked uncertain. "Doing what?"

"Telling you it's not your fault." Ruby got off the bed and put her hand over her heart, striking what she must have thought was a serious and resolute pose. "I, Ruby Rose, solemnly swear to remind you that you are not to blame for what happened, whenever you want me to, and maybe even when you don't! I swear to tell you this until you start believing it yourself!"

Weiss smirked. That smirk gave way to a smile, which gave way to a full-blown laugh. "You look ridiculous, do you know that?"

Ruby blushed, but merely nodded. "Maybe. But if it helps you believe in yourself, I'll look as ridiculous as I need to. We're teammates, Weiss. We have to keep each other strong. And as your friend, I can't just watch when you're hurting."

"Hmm." Weiss's smile faltered. "Ruby…what are we? I think at this stage we're trying to be a little more than friends. What does that mean?"

They both considered it briefly. Weiss watched patiently, hands folded in her lap, as Ruby bounced up and down on her heels. Ruby thought about it, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Well…we enjoy each other's company. We're good teammates, and we want to keep doing that. And, we…" Her cheeks were blooming into a powerful blush again. "Well…you're really pretty, and I liked when we kissed…"

"Stop."

"Huh?" Ruby froze, instantly shrinking. Had she said something wrong?

Weiss shook her head and smiled again, as if reassuring a child that had broken her mother's favorite vase. "You're being very cute right now, but I shouldn't have asked. Instead of talking about it, we should just do it."

Ruby went as red as her cape. "Well…I mean…not that I _don't _want to, but…"

Weiss rolled her eyes, stood up and flicked Ruby on the forehead. "Ow!"

"Don't be dense. I _meant _we should go on a date. We can do it Saturday afternoon. We'll get tea at that place Blake told us about." Weiss looked down at her boots, tracing a nervous circle in the carpet. "It'll be just you and me. We can forget about everything else." She closed her eyes. "Maybe…just for the afternoon…I can forget I'm a Schnee."

Weiss held her hands behind her back, uncertain and suddenly unwilling to open her eyes again. She wanted this, but there was no way it could work out. Her family would never approve, and she doubted that she herself even deserved—

_Flick._ "Ow!"

Ruby giggled as Weiss put her hand to her forehead. She hadn't flicked her that hard. "You don't have to. You're already the best Schnee I know. And as long as you keep being the best Schnee you can be, you don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks." She gently moved Weiss's hand down and held it in hers. "And when your grandma does get here…well, she'll just have to accept you. And me."

That was new to Weiss. She looked into Ruby's eyes, finding nothing to suggest otherwise. Weiss considered herself fairly good at reading people, and all she saw in Ruby was sincerity. _She couldn't lie if her life depended on it._ Weiss took comfort in that. She took comfort in Ruby's reassurance. She took comfort in the shorter girl's arms and took comfort in their kiss, which had snuck up on her just like the first time in the workshop, and all the little details that came with it. _Strawberries, with a hint of spearmint. She uses Shi-nee Toothpaste._

_ That's the good stuff._

* * *

**Author's Note: There's where that backstory was hiding. I promise something will actually happen in the next chapter or two; I just don't want to make anyone's relationship too easy. Relationships are hard. They require maintenance.**

**"They are both in either's pow'rs. But this swift business**

**I must uneasy make, lest too light winning**

**Make the prize light."**

**-_The Tempest _( .451-453).**

**Follow/Favorite/Review/PM me, I'd love to talk to you!**

**-ZB**


End file.
